The girl regarded him with the face of a Sphinx. His age was not far from fifty. ’ He glanced at the portrait behind her. "Of course," responded the widow, heaving a deep sigh. He devoured her with his eyes too, his shyness not able to disguise his furtive glances at the curvy outline of her breast against the imitation silk, his memory still exquisitely tortured by her movements in the miniskirt. " So saying, she planted herself between Jack and the turnkey. .
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